


Peter Dear

by Anonymous



Category: Ripley Series - Patricia Highsmith, Talented Mr Ripley (1999)
Genre: But not of whom you'd think, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Murder, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Suicide, Suicide Notes, This is literally just a suicide note so beware of triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: His mind is still rattled from last night. What he was about to do, how he didn't bother to think rationally for a single second. The solution seemed so obvious at the time, but now Tom knows he couldn't handle a higher body count than the one he already has.Or...A letter for Peter.
Relationships: Tom Ripley/Peter Smith-Kingsley
Kudos: 93
Collections: Anonymous





	Peter Dear

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, in the opening credits, all those words that are flashing in the title before settling on 'talented' are these following words: mysterious, yearning, secretive, sad, lonely, troubled, confused, loving, musical, gifted, intelligent, beautiful, tender, sensitive, haunted, passionate, talented. 
> 
> I slowed it down so I could read them all. Probably missed a few. But if you're curious (because I sure was) here they are.
> 
> I think it's interesting. I like to think the first ones are how Tom would describe himself, and then after 'confused' I think it morphs into Peter's thoughts, and how he would describe Tom. Probably not, but it's my fun (and sad) little theory.

Tom only feels dread. Hot, sticky dread that settles in his ribcage, unsettling his heartrate until it's beating so fast his hands shake. Which is terribly inconvenient for a time like this. He would much rather prefer to avoid any more needless vulnerability. 

His mind is still rattled from last night. What he was about to do, how he didn't bother to think rationally for a single second. The solution seemed so obvious at the time, but now Tom knows he couldn't handle a higher body count than the one he already has.

For a moment his pen turns to a razor. He can feel his hand stinging from the blade digging into his palm, see the blood as is slowly tarnishes the white sheet of paper laid out in front of him.

He blinks and the blood is gone. So is the razor, the pen back in it's place.

Tom Ripley is officially losing it.

* * *

_Dear Peter,_

_Tom Ripley will die. As I write this, I don't know when, but I do know how and why. If you're reading this, you have the when, and how, and you will keep reading for why. But I am hanging by a thread, because I have been dying since I took my first breath._

_I am not sick, if that is what you are thinking. Not physically at least, so you must not worry. My death will not be slow, but I fear it will be painful. For all parties involved. You especially my dear Peter._

_I have secrets, you know. In the basement, I've told you about the basement. I've also told you of my parents I believe. Their drowning. What I did not tell you was that I had died that day too, along with them. And as their lungs filled with sea water, mine filled with rot._

_Of course, I did not really die that day, obviously. Not as a whole, but a part of me, a piece of me had._

_And so started the life of the tragic Mr. Ripley. The sad, lonely, secretive Mr. Ripley._

_I was alone. An orphan, or as close as you can get to one without actually being one (although maybe it would have been better if I had). There was aunt Dottie. Cold, uncaring, aunt Dottie who saw me for what I was. A sissy, a freak. And every time I heard those words, I died a little bit more._

_Would I still be the same Tom if they had survived? I can't help but think I would not. Would I still be troubled? Tormented? Talented?_

_That's a funny topic. The Talented Mr. Ripley, though talent is the nice way to put it. Used to be something I valued. It came in very useful in my line of work, though as of now it's become more of an ailment than anything. And now I resent it. What kind of a gift is lying? Forgery? Impersonation?_

_It's gotten me into quite the mess, you see my dear Peter? And now I must fix it._

_Can you guess what I've done Peter? Can you? You're smart, and you know me so well, I don't doubt you'll figure it out. Take a guess Peter._

_Can you even fathom it? I don't know if you can. You're too kind Peter, too kind for your own good. And much too trusting, it'll get you into trouble someday. Maybe it already has._

_All I ask is that you come to the conclusion yourself. I cannot bare saying it aloud. Even writing it is too much. The permanence of ink can't seal my secrets, rather lay them out for all to see. Can you keep a secret Peter? If you love me you will._

_For my sake, I hope you can._

_It's all fake Peter. Everything. I lied. Tom Ripley lied, and he did a damn good job._

_That's all I can say about that._

_I'm going to die Peter darling, and I am scared. I want to die, I want to die badly, because I can no longer handle the things I've done, but I am terrified. Of the repercussions, the mess, of an afterlife if there is one (I am most certainly going to hell), of the hurt I will befall upon you. I don't want to hurt you my dear. Causing you pain will only make me resent myself more._

_It feels like a waste. I worked hard, pushed my morals beyond where I thought they could stretch, beyond where any human beings should stretch, and I succeeded. I have everything I've ever wanted, and I am going to throw it all away._

_But I deserve it. I will die because I deserve it. I will throw everything I've earned away, I will throw my life away. I deserve to feel pain, and agony. I deserve to die. And when it comes, I will not struggle. I will take it, and slip into the embrace of what couldn't be._

_Before I end this, I will leave you with one last thing Peter darling._

_I love you. That is the one thing I cannot bring myself to lie about. Tom Ripley loves Peter Smith-Kingsley, and I will ask of you that you do not love me back._

_Tom_

* * *

Meredith's lips taste like chemicals. A side affect from the bright red lipstick she donned. Tom has to resist the urge to spit out the flavour as she disappears into some other area of the _Hellenes._

He is trapped, in a nightmare of his own making, with only one way out.

_'You have the when and the how...'_

* * *

Tom doesn't know how long he spends on the boat deck, but it must have been a while because it's pitch dark, not a soul is in sight.

It's quiet. Only the sound of the waves sloshing against the bow. A bout of nausea hits him, and whether its the sea sickness, or a side affect of what is about to happen is unclear.

* * *

Peter is asleep when he sneaks into his cabin. His music score is haphazardly sprawled on the floor next to the bed, as if he'd thrown it off to make room for his head on the pillow.

He looks beautiful. Tom wants nothing more than to crawl up beside him, and worm his way beside him, into his arms. How nice that would be.

He knows he can't. 

He settles for a kiss, a light brush of his lips against the musicians forehead, before setting down the note and sneaking back out into the corridor.

* * *

There's a railing standing between him and the water. It's almost enough for Tom to give up. Turn around, and tell himself he tried, gave it his best shot, there were just too many obstacles. It's the fakest lie he's ever told himself, Tom knows he could easily slip through the bars.

So he does.

He lets go.

And he does not struggle.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if the timeline was clear, so I'll write it here.
> 
> I imagine Tom writing this note after the night he almost kills Marge, and then sealing it away in a bag until he needs to use it. He knows his fate, he knows that he will die, but he hasn't planned how or when.
> 
> However, he goes through with killing himself on the Hellenes. After the kiss with Meredith is when he decides he will die. Tom will stay out on the boat deck, mulling over the details of his death, and once it is safe to assume Peter is asleep, he sneaks into the room, slips the letter onto the table, and then slips back out to carry out his plan. 
> 
> He'll jump off the side of the boat, which I think is a fitting death considering his parents drowned too.  
> ***  
> I don't even want to think of Peters reaction upon reading the note. It's much too heartbreaking for me. However, if you don't like this ending I encourage you to humour the thought that Tom doesn't go through with it. If you'd like I could write an alternate ending as well. A happier one, in which nobody dies. Give me the word and I will.


End file.
